


In Another Life

by Ingu



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 1x01, Abusive Parents, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Codependency, F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/pseuds/Ingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2007, Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn go missing in the South China Sea after a violent storm destroys their yacht.</p><p>In 2012, they are discovered by a passing fishing boat on an island named Lian Yu, miraculously alive after enduring five years of hell.</p><p>This is what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU rewrite of 1x01 in a world where Tommy Merlyn was shipwrecked with Oliver Queen, and spent the next five years at his side before returning to Starling City as a duo. They become Vigilantes, and work together to cross off the names on Robert Queen's list.
> 
> As you would expect, there are consequently a lot of changes to characters and relationships. There are also liberal hints of unrequited Oliver/Tommy throughout for OTP reasons.
> 
> Blanket warning for everything you would expect from the regular series.
> 
> A massive thanks to both [ladylapislazuli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli) and [juurensha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/juurensha) for betaing this story.

 

After everything they’ve gone through in the last five years, returning to Starling City feels like walking into another world. 

Even as Tommy indulges in the familiar sights and sounds of the city, he can’t help but feel an incredible sense of otherness. Every small difference between reality and his own hazy memory leap out at him. Changed buildings and shopfronts, the shift in street fashion, even the technology being held in people’s hands; five years and the world has moved on without them. Every new oddity he notices makes it feel more and more like it is only a dream.

Which means that any second now Tommy will be waking up, and he’ll be back on the island, inside the burnt out shell of the aircraft he and Oliver have more than once called home during the past few years.

Every instinct in Tommy’s body screams at him to run, that the unfamiliarity is a warning, a sign of imminent danger that is sure to swallow them whole. It’s only Oliver’s presence beside him that grounds him in the present, and keeps him from fidgeting in his seat. Tommy forcibly shoves down every unwelcome feeling, and focuses instead on the promise of the months and years to come.

They’re back.

Staring out the window, Tommy thinks he never realized how much a city could change in five years. But then again, he and Oliver are also no longer the same shallow rich boys who left the city in on a yacht all those years ago.

“That building there’s the new Merlyn Tower,” says the driver, glancing at them through the rear-view mirror. “They only finished construction a few months ago. Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

Tommy turns his gaze to the giant glass and steel building looming up beside them, and assesses it on instinct. One main entry, glass walls, possible side entrances around the building, it will be an easy place to break into for anyone with training.

His dad could have done better.

Tommy feels Oliver’s measuring gaze behind him, and knows he must have come to the same conclusion. The driver, who has been gauging their reactions expectantly through the rear view mirror, sighs quietly and sags in his seat.

They have yet to speak more than a few words to anyone but each other.

Tommy can barely find it in himself to care. What is there really to say?

They’ll be okay, he thinks, as long as they’re together.

 

-

 

They go through the expected medical examinations – blood tests, x-rays, scans that convince the doctors they are healthy enough to be immediately released. Tommy reads the doctors’ surprise at their fitness with no small amount of amusement, and ignores their confusion at the scars that obviously came from things that had no place on a deserted island.

None of them would ever know the full story, but the curiosity of the medics stirs to life a mischievous urge in Tommy that has long lain dormant.

“You should see the other guy,” he says to a doctor who stands in shock after seeing his scars.

The man starts to attention, his gaze turning to Tommy in bewilderment, and Tommy offers an awkward smile that probably looks like nothing more than a pursing of the lips.

He thinks he’ll get the hang of this again, eventually.

The doctor doesn’t appreciate his joke, and Tommy sits through the rest of the exam without a single word. All the while, he wonders what Oliver is doing in the neighboring room, wondering if Oliver’s bothered to talk to the pretty nurse standing outside the door. In another life, Tommy would have been goading Oliver to seduce her.

But a lot changes in five years.

 

-

 

A psychiatrist interviews them both to assess their mental condition, and Tommy doesn’t need to fake the appearance of someone traumatized but still stable.

“You seem distracted, Mr. Merlyn.”

“These aren’t exactly experiences I want to think about, Doctor,” he replies, his smile politely distant.

 

-

 

Tommy would be lying if he said he never thought about his father. In more than one moment, Tommy’s tried to play the conversation out in his mind, to imagine every possible scenario. But as the moment nears, he finds himself focusing less on the what-ifs and more on the anxiety that thrums in his veins.

How has his father been? Did he miss Tommy? Regret the harsh words they exchanged in their last meeting?

Malcolm Merlyn waits the precise amount of time it takes for the doctor to finish explaining Tommy’s physical and mental state.  He dismisses the man with a brief thank you, and sweeps into the room where Tommy stands waiting.

Then, Tommy is staring at his father who stands barely twenty feet away, wondering if the sudden pang in his chest is fear or longing. His father is still mostly the same, but time has made it so he’s no longer what Tommy remembers. Tommy takes in the weariness in his father’s eyes, the hint of white in his hair. He catalogues every change he sees, trying to bring them in line with the memory of who his father used to be. Five years, and signs of age are evident on Malcom Merlyn’s face.

“Dad,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper.

The next thing Tommy knows, he’s being pulled into a hug. Malcolm holds him tightly, and Tommy finds his arms automatically wrapping around his father, who stands solid and warm in front of him.

In that moment Tommy’s dreamlike state cracks, and the world finally starts feeling real.

“Thank God,” is the only thing his father says, his voice choked.

Tommy lets out a shuddering sigh, relief washing through him.

He’s home.

 

-

 

Tommy can only imagine how Oliver’s own reunion experience is going, but he thinks there would be more warmth there, more affection.

Perhaps his father had already come to terms with Tommy’s return in his own time, because the hug is the only greeting he gets. With a long, unreadable stare that is almost harsh, and a murmured, “We’re going home”, Tommy finds himself being silently pulled through the hospital.

This isn’t how he thought it would go.

Tommy had never expected his father to ramble an apology or to break down crying, but shouldn't there be more acknowledgement? More than just those few words? Questions? He had no way of knowing what his father had been trying to communicate in that long moment where their eyes had met, if Malcolm had wanted to communicate anything at all. In the silence, there are only memories to fill the gaps, and all Tommy can remember is disappointment, judgement, and disregard.

But it won’t be like that anymore, he thinks. Things will be different now.

Malcolm holds his wrist in a steel grip, and Tommy thinks he should feel protected. Perhaps his father is afraid to let go, perhaps he wants to make sure Tommy is truly there and real.

The rough calluses he can feel against his skin don’t feel like they belong on a corporate executive. Was his father always this strong?

His questions have no answers. It is beginning to hurt, and with each passing second, his father’s hand starts to feel more and more like a shackle.

Maybe he had been wrong to be optimistic.

 

-

 

The journey home is mostly silent, and Tommy finally understands their driver’s dejection on the trip from the airport because this time Tommy feels it himself. It is as though the gulf that had been between them five years ago has only grown wider in his absence.

Is his father trying to give him space? Does he just not know what to say? Does he simply not care? That can’t be true. Tommy had heard the pain in his voice, felt the trembling of his father’s body as he pulled Tommy close for the first time in five years.

But the silence stretches between them, and Tommy doesn’t know how to break it.

It takes twenty minutes before the car pulls up in front of the mansion, and Tommy is relieved to get out of the increasingly suffocating space they had shared.

The night air is crisp and fresh, and Tommy stares at the house in wonder as the driver takes off for the garage. It looks almost exactly the same as the one in his memory.

His father waits beside him with surprising patience, and eventually nudges him to go inside. Tommy looks towards his father, but Malcolm is already moving towards the door. A beat later, Tommy follows.

When he finally crosses the threshold onto the tiled floor of the foyer, Tommy finds that the inside is just as cold and silent as he remembers. Memories of his childhood, years spent alone, comes flooding back, and Tommy recalls every reason he’d tried so desperately to get away from this place, why he’d spent so many days and nights at Oliver’s home and side.

He isn’t sure what he’d expected, but whatever did change during his ‘death’ didn’t seem to be for the better.

“You should stay here for a while,” his father says as he hands his briefcase to a waiting maid, “I’m afraid most of your belongings were donated after we cleaned out your apartment, but I arranged for some things to be put together in your old room. Dinner will be ready soon, get some rest.”

Tommy nods, and Malcolm Merlyn walks away.

Just like that.

 

-

 

His old room is nothing like he remembers. Before the accident, he still kept belongings there, even though he lived in his own apartment downtown and spent half his time at Oliver’s. Now, the room looks like a page ripped from an interior design magazine. None of the familiar pieces of furniture remain, all of it replaced with stylish and modern pieces five years too advanced for his taste.

God, he needs to catch up.

Everyone grieves differently, and Malcolm Merlyn’s style seems to involve completely removing all reminders of the loss from his life. He had disappeared for two years after his mother’s death, and with Tommy’s own disappearance, it seems like his father had handled the loss with the exact same approach.

Tommy sits down on the bed, and stares out the window at the dark grounds beyond. Oliver’s missing presence is already setting him on edge, and there is nothing more he wants to do than to sneak out and find Oliver at his home.

But Oliver needs the time with his own family, time spent without Tommy hovering at his side.

They have so many things to do now they’ve returned, and it’s almost time to make a start.

 

-

 

Tommy expects dinner to be better, thinks there will be more conversation, perhaps something warmer, friendly. But it’s just as awkward as the car ride home.

The food though, the food is heavenly. He can’t hold back a moan at the first bite of the steak. It’s beautifully seasoned and cooked to perfection, but most of all, Tommy hasn’t had anything even half as delicious in five years.

Across the table, Malcolm Merlyn looks amused by his son’s obvious enjoyment.

“I thought you must be missing the food,” says Malcolm, tucking into his own meal.

“Well beef isn’t something you get on a deserted island,” Tommy says with a laugh, taking another bite. “Especially steak cooked this well.”

“Well, now you can have as much as you like,” says Malcolm, taking a sip of his wine. He turns his focus back towards his meal, and falls silent.

Tommy does the same, wondering if he should find something to talk about.

“So, uh, how’s the company?” he asks, when it becomes obvious his fathers had no plans to speak.

“We’re doing well.”

Tommy nods, then realises nothing more will be forthcoming. He stares at his food, pushing down the burgeoning frustration that is starting to thrum.

“I understand the last five years must have been hard for you,” Malcolm says eventually.

Tommy isn’t sure if his father is only making a statement, or expecting a reply. He looks up at his father, uncertain.

“I’m glad you’re back with me,” Malcolm continues.

The emotion in his father’s voice makes Tommy avert his eyes, his appetite suddenly disappearing. Five years ago they had not parted on good terms, and even now Tommy doesn’t quite know where they stand. There had been an argument, a vicious one that had ended in near violence, with Tommy speechless and on the verge of tears.

_Your mother would be ashamed of you._

Perhaps it would be better described as a thorough humiliation.

For five years he’d been left with those memories of his father, struggling to recall the good that had existed in their relationship. Would it be presumptuous for either of them to think that all is now forgiven? Tommy wants to trust that doesn’t need to hold onto his fear when they face each other. But despite everything he’s tried to tell himself must have changed since that day, the dread and numbness still lingers.

Five years, and all of his terror, hastily buried, still threatens to resurface.

“Me too,” says Tommy.

They lapse into silence, and for a moment, the only sound is the tinkling of the cutlery.

It appears that a five year disappearance doesn’t change the fact that the two of them never really had anything to say to each other.

“Do you have any plans? About what you’d like to do now you’re back?”

Tommy looks up at Malcolm’s next words, his heart starting to thump painfully in his chest.

_If you keep up like this, you’re going to end up as nothing._

“I, uh…” Tommy forces himself to breathe, “I was thinking I could get used to things first. A lot must have changed.”

He has plans, extensive plans, with Oliver. But none of those things can be shared at the family dinner table.

Malcolm nods, and again, says nothing. Tommy’s not sure if he’s misreading his father, but he’s almost certain there’s disappointment in his eyes.

What is he risking, if he goes back to his old playboy ways? Tommy remembers the cool judgement in his father’s eyes, and is suddenly desperate to find a more painless road.

“Well, if you’d like to work, there is always a position for you in the company.”

Is this happening all over again? They’re falling straight back into the same dynamics they had before, Tommy the failure of a son who continually fails to live up to his father’s standards, undeserving of the good things in his life. Maybe Malcolm would even make good with the threats to cut him off, this time around.

Tommy wonders if in another life, Malcolm and Thomas Merlyn could ever have been something better.

“I don’t think I’m up for that right now,” he says, his voice weak.

“Of course, just let me know when you’re ready.”

His father doesn’t say another word for the rest of the meal.

Tommy could almost forget that he’s been gone, dead, for five years. Because he feels twenty-two years old again, sitting opposite a father disappointed in everything his son is not.

_You need to do something with your life, Tommy._

And just like five years ago, he wants to run away.

 

-

 

In the end, his nerves worn to an edge, Tommy drives away from the mansion barely an hour after dinner.

It may have been better to wait until morning before going to the Queen Mansion, but every second Tommy stayed in that silent house had him growing more and more anxious until he finally could no longer stand it.

What his father doesn’t know, is that Tommy has found something. He’s found the place where he belongs, a purpose, and that is by Oliver’s side.

He isn’t good at being alone, not back here, where the walls are laden with too many unwanted memories, and everything feels foreign and strange. Not when Oliver’s absence feels like a slowly twisting knife in his gut.

It strikes him that this sort of attachment had probably stopped being healthy long ago, but Tommy is long past the point of no return. Sometime in the years of constant danger, of being forced to kill or die, they had come to only trust and rely on each other.

Now, five years later, Tommy is like a teenager with an addiction, and the drug is and has always been Oliver.

He has to see him.

His car screeches to a halt in the driveway outside the Queen’s front door, and Tommy jumps out, completely forgetting to lock the door as he takes the steps two at a time. He presses his fingers to the doorbell as soon as it comes within reach, and counts the seconds until it opens.

“Tommy!”

It’s a young woman who pulls open the door, her eyes widen with joy, and Tommy barely has time to open his mouth before the girl flings herself into his arms. It takes a split second for him to realise that the woman isn’t a stranger, but Thea, and it’s a concentrated effort to force the reflexive beginnings of a takedown move into a hug.

Thea’s arms are tight around him, and Tommy catches the scent of her shampoo as he returns the hug, trying not to think too hard about how close he’s just come to hurting Oliver’s sister.

Thea’s beaming when she finally pulls away, and Tommy tries to return the smile, feeling nowhere as successful with his attempt as he hoped to be.

His joy at seeing Thea again is genuine, however, and it doesn’t take much for the smile to turn into something open and warm.

“I missed you so much,” says Thea as she pulls him into the house. She stares at him like he’s some sort of miracle, and Tommy suddenly remembers the same expression on his father’s face as they sat face to face at dinner.

He hadn’t recognised it then, and he doesn’t bother to think about what it might mean now.

“I missed you too,” Tommy replies, his smile turning softer as he takes in the changes.

Thea has grown so much from the twelve year old girl Tommy remembers. She had trailed after him and Oliver around the house, always wanting to know what they were doing and when they would be back and why she could not do along. Oliver had talked her down each and every time she tried to follow them. He would act annoyed by the attention, but everyone knew how much he adored his baby sister.

Thea has to be seventeen now. The person in front of him is half way to becoming a woman, and an incredibly hot one at that.

Okay, whoa, no, bad thoughts. Tommy derails that train of thought in the same breath it forms.

The sound of running footsteps breaks the moment, and they both look up towards the source.  Oliver is there at the top of the stairs, grinning at him in a way that only makes Tommy’s smile grow wider.

Everything feels right again.

“Hey, Ollie, look who’s here!”

 

-

 

Moira and Walter emerge soon after, greeting Tommy with hugs, questions, and even thanking him for looking after Oliver.

Oliver’s mother is warm and beautiful, as always. As happy as Tommy is to see her again after so many years, Walter’s presence by her side surprises him. All he knows from before is that Walter was the CFO of Queen Consolidated, and a close personal friend of Oliver’s father. But the casual intimacy the two show in front of them, and the wedding band clearly visible on Walter’s hand, has him glancing towards Oliver in a silent question.

Oliver nods almost imperceptibly, confirming Tommy’s suspicions, and the small frown on his face makes Tommy think that Oliver isn’t pleased by the development.

The warmth and interest shown by the Queens as they crowd around Tommy is almost startling in contrast with his father, and Tommy remembers that this is how it’s always been. The death of Tommy’s mother had turned Malcolm Merlyn into something hard and cold, and his own disappearance appears to have changed nothing for the better.

It takes half an hour before the Queen family is willing to let him be alone with Oliver, and Tommy finds himself almost reluctant to leave them. Seeing Moira, Thea, and even Walter again had felt more like seeing the family he’d missed than Malcolm. Tommy still has questions for them - whether Thea finally got that pony she wanted, if Moira won the auction for that diamond necklace she fell in love with. Tiny things he’d ignored once upon a time had become questions he’s been dwelling on for years.

Maybe later he would ask.

 

-

 

“Wow, your room looks _exactly_ the same.”

The Queens must have not touched a single thing in Oliver’s room. The sight of half-familiar clothes and furniture has Tommy sorely missing his own apartment. The belongings he’d gathered are probably all gone now, and he has next to nothing left to prove the first twenty odd years of his existence.

“My Dad donated everything I owned,” Tommy sighs, poking at a pile of abandoned clothing. Ollie’s wardrobe is also five years behind the times.

He thinks there’s something poetic there, probably about fresh starts and new beginnings.

Oliver heads straight for his closet, checking his usual hiding spots for his secret stashes of cash, a hunt which seems to have been in progress before Tommy interrupted things with his arrival.

Tommy’s words has Oliver turning around in concern, “Everything?”

“As far as I know,” Tommy replies with a shrug, but Oliver’s question makes Tommy re-evaluate his assessment. It made sense to empty the apartment, but not _everything_ would have ended up in a goodwill store somewhere, surely.

“Hey,” Oliver says, and Tommy stops staring at the room in favour of Oliver, who is holding up a stack of folded up clothing that Tommy takes a moment to recognise.

“Thanks,” he says dumbly.

He steps forward, in shock, and takes the clothes from Oliver’s hands. Tommy sets them down on the bed, and goes through each one. There are old shirts, jeans, even socks and underwear he’d left at Oliver’s for convenience after one too many unplanned overnights.

Maybe he didn’t lose everything.

Tommy doesn’t know what he is feeling, finding more pieces of himself with the Queens than he did with his father.

Oliver continues searching his room, and there is a moment of silence as Tommy stares at bundle of clothes now scattered on the bed in distraction.

“So how was dinner with your father?” Oliver says eventually, breaking Tommy out of his reverie.

“Painful, awkward, couldn’t end fast enough.” Tommy leaves the bed and drifts to the bedside table, curious to see if _really_ nothing has been changed. “The food was good though. God, I’ve missed steak.”

Everything is definitely still the way Oliver left it. “Oh look, these are still here.” From the nook between the nightstand and the wall, Tommy pulls out one of Oliver’s old skin mags with a grin.

Oliver looks up from the stack of books he’s rifling through, his expression turning sour the moment he sees the magazine, “Okay, those are going in the trash.”

Tommy laughs, and tosses the magazine towards the wastepaper bucket.

 

-

 

_The ball of paper hits the side of the bin and bounces off the rim, landing amongst two of its companions._

_“Yes…!” Tommy pumps the air in victory, before he is promptly thrown off balance as the yacht tilts to one side. He grabs onto the chair beside him, and rights himself by slipping into it, taking a sip of his wine as he makes himself comfortable. “Ollie, your turn.”_

_Outside, rain pelts against the window as another clap of thunder sounds almost right above their heads. The closeness of it has Tommy glancing briefly upwards, but it’s not the first storm they’ve encountered while at sea, and neither of them are worried about it. Someone would be at their doors if the weather’s going to be a problem._

_From the bed, Oliver groans and takes another shot of whisky from the row laid out on the bedside table. Tommy laughs as he watches, and picks up another sheet of paper, scrunching it with one hand in preparation for the next round._

_With his drink finished, Oliver picks up another ball of ammunition, taking careful aim at the trash can across the room. “You know, at this rate we’re going to run out of the good stuff before we reach land.”_

_The ball of paper flies across the room, and the boat tilts just before it reaches its target. With a soft thump, it lands a foot away from the goal._

_Tommy grins at Oliver with a look of victory, “Then we’ll just have to get into your stash.”_

_“Who says I have a stash?” Oliver replies, feigning a look out outrage._

_“Oliver Queen,” Tommy says, staring intently at his best friend as he slowly rises from the chair and stalks closer towards the bed and leaping onto it. “You always have a stash.”_

_He crawls across the linens until he’s right next to Oliver, turning around so they’re sitting at each other’s sides. Oliver looks away and shakes his head in obligatory denial._

_“And so do I,” Tommy finishes with a laugh that turns into a squeak as Oliver jabs him hard in the stomach._

_He collapses in exaggerated pain, and suddenly the world is flipping upside down. He feels himself being thrown violently forward as the roof rushes towards him. He barely registers the pain of hitting cabinet and the wall, and sees only a flash of Oliver, struggling to get up beside him. Tommy reaches out for him, and sees him doing the same, when there is the sound of creaking wood, then a crack as the floorboards break open. Oliver’s eyes widen, he’s screaming, and then Tommy is falling._

_The shock of the freezing water knocks the air from his lungs, and in an instant the world is silent. Terrifying darkness surrounds him on all sides as the coldness eats at his skin. He doesn’t know which way is up._

_It’s only the shadow of something falling in front of him that points Tommy towards the direction of the surface. There is light, not too far away, and Tommy forces himself towards it even as he feels the water pulling him further and further under. He kicks out viciously, his arms stretching for what he prays is the surface, every muscle in his body straining in desperate effort._

_He breaks through the surface with a heaving breath, and almost chokes as the salt water splashes into his mouth. He looks around him in terror as he tries to find someone, or something to hold onto and stares mutely as he watches what remains of the ‘Queen’s Gambit’ slowly sink right before him. Then a light shines onto him from above._

_Oliver is on a lifeboat, screaming out his name._

 

-

 

_The two of you can survive._

Though it’s Robert Queen whose memory Oliver hopes to honour, whose mistakes he seeks to correct, Oliver’s crusade is far from his own.

Tommy would honour his mother, who had lived and died trying to save the lives of innocent and disadvantaged people. Wiping out the corrupt men and women who hurt those who cannot fight back would serve a similar purpose, and Tommy thinks that perhaps this way, his mother’s death would become something more than the tragedy that broke the Merlyn family.

His own justifications aside, it hadn’t just been his son whose life Robert Queen had saved that day on the lifeboat. Tommy had been there too, and it had been Robert Queen’s share of food and water that had kept him alive long enough to see the island of Lian Yu, countless days later.

Robert Queen had been like a father to him, the person Tommy had gone to when his real father was nowhere to be found. Yet for all that Tommy misses the man, he knows that Oliver misses his father more. The list of names had been important to Robert back then, it is important to Oliver now. For Tommy, it is the same.

No matter what, there’s no way he’s going to let Oliver do any of this alone.

_Together, ‘til the end._

They end up going through Oliver’s entire room, finding everything they can use for what will soon become their base of operations. Oliver has one of his father’s old factories in mind. It was closed long before they had sailed off on a yacht, and apparently it’s still abandoned five years later. They make plans for the next day. They have a lot of shopping to do, for one, and they would need to make sure that the factory can be repurposed for their intended use.

Oliver’s stashes of cash are still intact, and Tommy can’t decide if he’s more saddened or relieved by the fact. It means that no one has gone through this room in the last five years. For five years, Oliver’s room has been kept dusted and clean, but not a single item has been moved out of place.

It wouldn’t have taken much to find any of this. Before, Oliver hadn’t been particularly clever with hiding his secrets. All the money he’d hidden around his room had been reserved for drugs, call-girls – the sort of spending you didn’t want to appear on your bank records.

Now, it serves a similar purpose.

 

-

 

They’re sitting side by side on the couch, taking a quiet moment after a long, long day. Tommy feels strange, like they’re just boys again, exhausted after a day of playing in the garden. It feels like a dream, and Tommy wonders if he’ll wake up in the next second and find himself back on the island, curled in his cot.

“Hey, can I stay here tonight?” Tommy asks quietly.

Oliver glances up at him, his expression unreadable, “Of course.”

“Thanks.” Tommy slides down until he’s half lying across the couch, and sticks one foot in Oliver’s face wiggling his toes with a smirk. Oliver wrinkles his nose, and slaps his leg away with a groan. Then he shifts his position until their positions mirror each other, and he is protected from any more of Tommy’s mischief.

It’s strangely intimate, to be like this. The silence returns, and Tommy wonders if Oliver feels just as disoriented as he does to be back among the people they had thought they would never see again.

The silence stretches, only the sound of the ticking clock tracks the passage of time.

Eventually, Tommy speaks.                                            

“I don’t know, I thought he’d be…”

Oliver looks across towards him, and Tommy tries to find the right word.

“Happier, you know?”

Tommy stares blankly ahead. They’re supposed to be happy, right? When your missing son turns up alive five years after his disappearance, there’s supposed to be something there, something more than a cordial welcome and controlled conversation.

“When I think back,” Tommy continues, “I don’t think he’s been happy for a single day since Mum died.” And Tommy’s magical resurrection hasn’t fixed anything.

“He loves you, even though he doesn’t know how to show it,” Oliver says quietly.

Tommy sighs, “Then what’s the point, Oliver?”

Malcolm Merlyn has very particular ways about showing his ‘love’ for his child. He showed love with the roughness of his grip, the curl of his sneering lip, words sharper than any knife that always knows where the hurt would be the most. It’s hard some days to know how to translate his father’s actions, whether he should fear violence or his own inevitable shame.

At the end of it all, Tommy only wishes his father doesn’t love him, if that was what his love meant.

He loves his father, and he missed him for five years, he did, even if he wishes he didn’t. But now that he’s returned, and all he feels like is a burden, an unwelcome reminder of something already surgically removed from his father’s life. The man’s silence affirmed every single doubt he had about what he meant to his father. S _lacker, disappointment, worthless_ , every one of his father’s angry words from before drift in his mind like poison, and it seems like they’re only going to pick up where they left off.

Oliver had convinced him to go on the Gambit to take his mind off Malcolm Merlyn, and then, well…

Oliver says nothing, and they fall into silence. Tommy lets himself enjoy the moment, the solid warmth of Oliver beside him the biggest comfort he can find. They are safe, for the first time in what feels like forever, and they’re together.

There’s not much more to ask for.

 

-

 

“Shit.”

The clock reads two a.m. when Tommy realises he’s not going to be able to fall sleep.

“You too, huh?” Oliver’s says from the bed, and he sounds as exhausted as Tommy feels.

“I feel like I’m being swallowed into the cushions,” Tommy says, staring forlornly at the dark ceiling.

The couch is, if anything, too comfortable. They were both used to something harder and more unforgiving beneath them at night, and the room felt stuffy without the breeze they had both grown accustomed to in the wild.

“I’m opening a window,” Tommy says after another minute of internal struggle, and he gets up from the couch. From the bed, Oliver sighs, sitting up and pulling the covers aside to join him at the window. Rain falls softly outside, and the wind is just enough to make it feel a little more like the island.

Five years was long enough to make you used to anything. He’d missed his bed like crazy the first few months. Oliver had too, if he remembered the complaints.

“We could try sleeping on the floor,” Oliver says, looking at the cold wooden panels beneath their feet.

Tommy follows Oliver’s gaze.

Why not?

They pull blankets and sheets from their respective nests on the bed and the couch, and set up close to the window, the closest thing they would have to the island without moving into a tent outside.

“Coming home to a life of luxury and we can’t sleep unless we’re on the floor,” Tommy says, after they’ve lain down. “I’m disappointed in us.”

Beside him, close enough to touch, Oliver shifts so he’s facing Tommy, and Tommy can hear the smile on his face when he speaks.

“We’ll have time to get used to it again.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, stretching out his arms. “Yeah, we will.”

“Goodnight.”

Tommy smiles. This was their ritual during the island, wishing each other goodnight before either one of them went to sleep. For a long time in between, there always had to be someone keeping watch, and the exchange was a sign that all was well. Eventually, it turned into a habit, a reassurance, something to remind each other that they were still there, that they weren’t alone. They’d said it once already tonight.

“Goodnight.”

 

-

 

His dreams are filled with smoke and gunfire, heart racing in terror as he runs through the jungle. The ground shakes and comes apart behind him and he is searching desperately for something, for someone, for Oliver. He stares into the undergrowth, seeing nothing but shadows and darkness. He has no idea where he is, or why he’s here.

Then he remembers, the screams, the blood. Oliver is dead, everyone is dead. He’s failed, he’s alone, and there is nothing left in the world to live for.

It’s a scream that has him snapping to alertness.

Tommy stares at the darkened roof, confused for a second before he remembers where he is. They’re home. Starling City, the fishing boat, this isn’t Lian Yu anymore.

He hears a whimper, and Tommy’s head snaps toward Oliver. _Nightmare._ Tommy carefully sits up, and edges closer. The rain outside is turning into a storm, and he winces as a fierce gust of wind shoots freezing raindrops into his back. No wonder neither of them are having good dreams.

With his own body, he shields Oliver as best as he can from the wind and the water,

“Hey… shhh…” he says, gently resting one hand on Oliver’s shoulder, rubbing small circles into his skin. “It’s okay, Oliver, I’m here, we’re safe now.”

He stays there, murmuring anything that comes into his head, staying close and offering any comfort he can. It’s an old ritual now, after everything they’ve been through, and Tommy has woken up enough times with Oliver tucked close to know that his best friend has done the same for him.

Eventually, Oliver calms, falling back into a quiet sleep.

Tommy silently gets to his feet and pulls the window shut, blocking out the storm. He walks across the room to take another layer of dry, clean blankets from the bed, and puts them over Oliver.

In the quiet of the night, he finds himself staring at his best friend, studying the curve of his lashes, the shape of his nose, his lips, the line of his jaw. They’re lying so close that Tommy barely has to reach out if he wants to touch.

Tommy keeps his arms where they are pressed against his chest. It is a long time before he falls asleep.

 

-

 

The next morning, Tommy eats breakfast with the Queens, feeling a little more relaxed than before. Though Robert Queen is no longer here, the warmth and camaraderie of being with Oliver’s family is exactly what Tommy had missed.

Still, five years is a long time, and there’s a gap now between Oliver and his family that had never existed before. It’s not surprising, all things considered. Five years has shaped everyone in the family into something different, had given them time to grieve and to move on with their lives past Oliver’s ‘death’. Thea is almost a grown woman and no longer the little girl they remember. Moira and Walter’s relationship is another unaddressed topic hanging above their heads.

But despite it all, there is a chance for them to reconnect, and the possibility is better than having nothing there at all.

He is following Oliver up the stairs when Moira stops him from the foyer, wanting to talk to Tommy alone. He and Oliver exchange a quick glance, and Moira chuckles at the sight.

“I’m not going to bite, Oliver. You’ll get Tommy back in one piece.”

Oliver smiles, nods his acquiescence, and leaves them alone.

Moira leads him into the lounge room, and Tommy looks at her a little helplessly, wondering what she is going to ask.

“I know I’ve said this before, Tommy, but I’m so glad to have you back with us.”

Tommy smiles, “And I’m glad to be back, Mrs. Queen.”

Moira smiles, but her expression is sad, and Tommy can read the pity in her eyes. “I can’t imagine how difficult the last five years must have been for you and Oliver.”

Is this about him and Oliver? It must have seemed unusual for Tommy to spend the night in Oliver’s room, especially when there had always been a guest room set up for him like before. It was Moira who had found them asleep on the floor this morning, curled against each other. The moment had been slightly awkward, to say the least.

“It wasn’t easy, surviving, but Oliver and I had each other,” Tommy says. He glances at Moira, and doesn’t miss the concern in her eyes. He’s glad that Oliver’s family cares so much about him. “And we’re… still not quite used to the idea of being separated.”

“Take as long as you need, Tommy,” Moira says with a soft smile, and Tommy wonders if he was reading too much into Moira’s concern. “We are all here, for both of you. I know Malcolm can be… closed off. But I know he cares about you, and you’ll always have us if you ever need someone to talk to.”

Tommy nods. “Thank you, Mrs. Queen.”

“No, thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy looks towards Moira in surprise, and finds her staring intently at him. Oliver has her eyes.

“You’re the one who brought my boy back to me. You’re the one who kept him safe. Oliver told us what you did for him on the island, and I could never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us.”

He wouldn’t have told them, not everything. But Moira’s words still leave Tommy speechless. She pats his cheek with a smile, and Tommy feels like an eight year old boy again when she leaves.

 

-

 

He tries to put the conversation behind him, instead focusing on finding Oliver. Luckily, Oliver happens to be in the first place Tommy looks – Thea’s room, right where he’d been headed. Neither of the siblings notice him when he walks up to the door.

“The city awaits,” he announces with a spread of his arms, interrupting the moment like the obnoxious best friend he’s supposed to be. He hopes that the talk with Moira had taken enough time that they’d gotten through whatever had needed to be said between brother and sister.

Now, he and Oliver have to get on with their plans.

The excuse today is to see the city and catch up on what they’re missing. They had politely and insistently refused offers from each member of the Queen family to be their guide. With enough reassurances that they will be fine and will call with their shiny new phones if they need anything, and the bonus fact of it being a weekday, they manage to convince them all to go into school and work. Thea had been more than a little disappointed that she couldn’t spend the day with her newly returned brother, but they made up for it by giving her a lift to school.

With an absurd amount of hugs and kisses, they are finally let on their way. They wave goodbye as Thea walks up the steps into the school, and then, they’re driving off down the street.

“You know we’re going to have to throw a kick-ass “we’re alive” party, right?” says Tommy, once they are properly on the road into the Glades. They’d kept to lighter topics while Thea was in the car, talked about her friends and teachers and anything else that came to mind. Now they’re alone, it’s safe to discuss some important things.

“It’s pretty much a requisite,” Tommy continues, “That is, if we want to keep our playboy image from before.”

In the driver’s seat, Oliver groans. “Of course.”

Tommy grins at Oliver’s misery. “I know you won’t be as into it considering, well, you know.” _Laurel_. “But I’m sort of looking forward to the beautiful people, booze, and dancing.”

“No you’re not,” Oliver replies without missing a beat.

Tommy frowns. “Okay, not as much as I would have five years ago, but we’re back, we’re alive, and that calls for a little living, don’t you think?”

“Right,” Oliver says with a grin, still clearly not believing him. He knows better than anyone just how much Tommy has changed – how much both of them have changed. He’s still nice enough not to call Tommy’s bluff a second time.

“I’m trying to get into character here. You’re not helping,” Tommy laughs. He looks over at Oliver and sees the tenseness in his shoulders. “She’ll be glad to see you.”

Tommy pushes aside the surge of jealousy that wells in his chest. It’s much harder now than it was five years ago, but he’s had enough practice at not letting it show.

Beside him, Oliver takes a deep breath. “I hope so.”

 

-                                                                                                                                                  

 

_For the third time that day, Tommy catches Oliver staring at the picture of Laurel._

_Of all the things to have been saved from the boat, it’s Laurel’s picture that remains in Oliver’s possession. If that’s not a sign from above that two people are meant to be, Tommy’s not sure what is._

_For a while, Tommy just watches Oliver, wondering what he’s thinking, if he regrets cheating on her with Sara, if he wishes he had accepted her offer to move in together. He can’t imagine how he’d feel if Oliver suddenly disappeared from his life, maybe never to return. Just the idea of it hurts too much for him to even try._

_What was that saying again? You don’t know what you’ve got, until you lose it._

_“You’ll see her again, Oliver,” says Tommy, moving forward to sit with him._

_“You keep saying that,” says Oliver._

_“Because I think it’s true.”_

_The shipwreck must have shocked everything into perspective, because Tommy even finds himself wishing he could see his father again._

_Even just to punch him in the face like he’s always wanted._

_He doesn’t let himself dream of anything more. His father would be hurt by his disappearance, but perhaps he’d also be relieved. One less disappointment to worry himself over, one less parasite to drain his funds._

_Strangely enough, despite all the hate Tommy has for the man, it’s easier to think that than it is to think of his father in pain, and blaming himself for Tommy’s disappearance._

_“For all we know, we could be stuck on this island for the rest of our lives,” Oliver grumbles, stuffing the picture back into his pocket. His movements are rough, but Tommy doesn’t miss the care he takes with protecting the photo._

_Tommy huffs. “For all we know, we could be rescued tomorrow.”_

_Oliver is silent as Tommy clambers to his feet._

_“And that,” Tommy says, “Is what you should be thinking about.”_

 

-

 

They realise much too late into their first day back that neither of them has any way to contact Laurel. Their old phones and all the numbers stored inside had been lost five years ago at sea, and neither of them feel brave enough to ask someone else for the details, knowing that anyone would be able to guess immediately why they want the information.

In the end, it’s Google that comes to their rescue, but not before Oliver’s six year old computer barrages them with half a dozen notices for system and software updates. Tommy is honestly impressed the thing even boots up at all, and hasn’t drowned under the dust that must have accumulated during its owner’s five year absence.

Dinah Laurel Lance, Oliver’s one and only true love, has become a lawyer, and is working for the City Necessary Resources Initiative.

The drive to the CNRI building doesn’t take long, and once they arrive, Tommy insists on waiting out in the street to give Oliver and Laurel the privacy they need after so many years apart. For several minutes, he finds himself fielding curious and suspicious stares from pedestrians, remembering belatedly that both he and Oliver are now semi-celebrities. Their faces have been plastered all over TV and news sites, and Tommy probably looks strangely familiar to them.

After a while, Oliver and Laurel walk out onto the street together deep in conversation.

He watches the scene unfold, not quite far enough away to miss the conversation that takes place. Though Laurel isn’t flinging herself into Oliver’s arms or greeting him with a passionate kiss as would have been ideal, everything seems to be going reasonably well.

Then again, it’s entirely possible that it’s already happened inside and Tommy has missed the spectacle.

For some strange unknowable reason, Oliver is focused on discussing the topic of Adam Hunt, a ruthless businessman who’s been making the news as the defendant in a class action lawsuit. A class action lawsuit currently spearheaded by Laurel Lance herself.

Tommy recognises the name from the notebook, and knows with resigned certainty that this connection with Laurel means the man is now at the top of their list. Still, this is _not_ the way to greet the love of your life after being dead for five years. He can only hope Oliver at least started out with a friendly greeting and an offer to catch up, but Tommy can’t exactly walk over and slap Oliver in the head without ruining the whole thing even more.

That isn’t such a terrible image, really, ruining this whole thing. It’s sort of comforting.

Butthat’s all it is, a stray thought, a fantasy. He‘d never do anything to come between Laurel and Oliver. Oliver deserves happiness more than anyone else in the world; and he deserves a second chance with Laurel.

“Did you really think you could just pick things up where you left off?”

The ire in Laurel’s voice sends alarm bells ringing in Tommy’s head, and he straightens a little more, watching as the expression on Laurel changes from polite to angry.

“I…”

“You were dead, Oliver. For five years I’ve been trying to move on.”

“I-I know, Laurel, I just thought…”

“And what about Sara? Are you going to pick things up where things left off with her as well?

Oh.                                                                                                                 

Of course, Oliver and Sara had been… of course she’d told her sister. Five years is a long time to keep a secret from your best friend.

He was an idiot for not thinking of this, too wrapped up in his own fantasy that Oliver and Laurel will reconcile and everything will be fine again. The expression on Oliver’s face makes Tommy want to jump in and separate the two of them before things get any worse. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Awkwardness and tension, perhaps, but not accusations and resentment.

“That’s not… I never cared about her the way I care about you, Laurel.”

“Oh, and the way you treat people you care about is to sleep with their siblings?”

They’d both underestimated just how much Laurel would have been hurt by Oliver’s betrayal, and how little the passing of five years has helped to numb her pain. Tommy hides a grimace. He’d wanted this to go well for Oliver.

“That’s not what it was.”

“Don’t bother, Oliver,” Laurel says, and though her voice is cold with anger, she looks just as miserable as the man she is staring down. “Five years… I could barely even grieve, I was so angry at you…”

Oliver only stares, silent and hurt, clearly having no idea what to say.

“God, I can’t do this,” Laurel says, her voice broken.

And that’s that.

Laurel turns to leave, and stops abruptly the moment she catches sight of Tommy.

She closes the short distance between then, and then they are standing face to face with each other. As she takes in the sight of him, the frustration on Laurel’s face melts away, and Tommy’s own anxiety slowly fades.

If the blooming smile on her face is any indication, she’s still happy to see him, in spite of everything, and Tommy would be lying if he said he isn’t glad to see her again.

If only she didn’t look so sad.

“Hey Tommy,” says Laurel, reaching forward and pulling him into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too, Laurel, it’s good to see you.”

When Laurel finally disappears into the building a few minutes later, Oliver trails up to Tommy, head hung.

Tommy sighs, staring at his best friend, who looks more like a kicked puppy than he’s ever seen him.

 

-

 

“So that could have gone better,” Tommy says as they walk back to the car, “But hey, you were dead for five years, she’s conflicted. Give it time and… she’ll want to see you again.”

Tommy doesn’t know if Oliver’s absorbing or believing a single word he’s saying, but that doesn’t prevent him from trying to make his point. It isn’t that Tommy had never predicted this type of reaction, and he knows Oliver had considered it as well, but it was a meeting that had to happen.

Though Tommy wished he could claim that Oliver had pulled through only with his own strength and Tommy’s support, Laurel was one of the things that had kept him holding on, and they had to see each other at least one more time.

What he doesn’t say is that after five years, neither of them are the same people they used to be, that Oliver is more in love right now with the idea of Laurel and his memories of her than the changed woman before him. That feeling had grown stronger with each year Oliver spent carrying his photo of her, staring at it like a lovesick teenager.

Still, they have a second chance, they have the possibility of having something good together, and Tommy isn’t going to let Oliver’s best chance at finding happiness simply go to waste.

He doesn’t think _why can’t it be me_?

Neither of them sees the ambush coming.

They’re trained better than this, they’ve experienced worse, they know the signs and warnings to look for and know when something is out of the ordinary. But somewhere between their preoccupation with Laurel and the novelty of being back in the city, a false sense of security had sprung up, and they’d let down their guard.

Suddenly, there is the screech of tires, men in red masks, guns pointed straight at the two of them.

Something stabs Tommy in the neck, and a second later, he feels his legs fold under him, and the world fades rapidly to black.

Before he loses consciousness, Tommy hears gunfire, and the sound of Oliver falling to the ground beside him.

His last thought?

_Oh fuck, not again._

 

-

 

_“I’ll ask you one more time, where are the graves?”_

_Tommy stays silent. Praying desperately that Oliver doesn’t give the man the answer he wants. He ignores the gun pointed at him, just as he ignores the weight of Oliver’s gaze from the next cell over._

_He’s freezing, sore from head to toe from the explosion that had knocked him unconscious. Shado and Slade are nowhere to be seen, and it’s only him and Oliver against a ship full of unknown enemies._

_He knows that the moment these men find out what they want to know, they will both lose their value, and most likely their lives._

_For Oliver’s sake, and his own, Tommy doesn’t say a word._

_There’s the sound of a gunshot, and pain explodes in Tommy’s gut. He falls to the ground with a choked scream, curling up on himself as the agony claws at his consciousness. Tommy clings at his stomach, letting out a small whimper as his hands rapidly stains red with blood._

_“Tommy!”_

 

-

 

The sound of Oliver’s screams brings him back into consciousness, and his mind sluggishly tries to reorient itself in reality. Upright, tied to a chair, not bad. Zip ties, easy. Nothing is hurting except his stiff neck. All good.

These kidnappers are in for a world of pain.

He opens his eyes a second later, meeting Oliver’s worried gaze across the room. Oliver visibly sags in relief.

“And look who’s joined us! Mister Merlyn, we have some questions for you and your friend.”

The head goon turns to him as soon as he notices Tommy’s eyes are open. The taser in his hand flashes with the crackle of electricity as he waves his arms. Tommy ignores him, and scans the room.

Warehouse, explains the chill. Five goons. They’ve faced worse.

The man in the red mask draws closer. “Answer my questions, or your little friend here soon won’t be quite so pretty anymore.”

“What do you want to know?” Tommy says flatly, looking a lot less scared than he probably should be. It clearly throws the goon off his game, and he’s silent for a beat too long before responding.

“Did Robert Queen make it to the island? Did he tell you anything?”

“What?” is all Tommy gets to say.

The man holds up his Taser, and glances over to Oliver before slamming it into Tommy’s chest. A scream rips out of his throat that he can’t hold back as thousands of volts course through his body.

“Yes! Yes he did!” Oliver is screaming at the kidnapper.

Tommy can’t see the man’s face, but he knows the goon is smiling in satisfaction.

“And what did he tell you, Mister Queen?”

Tommy tries to get his breath back, gritting his teeth against the pain as his muscles continue to spasm. He twists his wrists, working at the zip tie. He meets Oliver’s gaze for a second time, and nods to let him know he’s okay.

“He told me I was going to kill you."

 _Nice._ Another tug, and the tip tie comes loose.

The goon is chuckling, along with the others. “You’re delusional. Mister Queen. You and Mister Merlyn are cuffed to your chairs.”

Tommy hums. “Not anymore,” he says, lifting his unbound hands with his most charming smile painted on his face.

The kidnappers freeze, and Tommy leaps into action, launching himself at the goon closest to him and taking him down with an arm around his neck and a kick to the knee that ends with a sickening crunch.

In his peripheral vision, he sees Oliver doing the same. A pained cry punctuates the air as Tommy drops and kicks another man’s feet out from under him in one spinning move. He grabs the chair as he rises, smashing it over another goon’s head before he twists and dodges an attack from behind. He grabs the man’s arm and dispatches him by pulling him close and slamming his elbow into his throat, finishing with a knee under the ribs.

It’s almost too easy, and Tommy tackles the third man to the ground just as he raises his gun to aim at Oliver. His opponents already dispatched, Oliver dashes towards them, stomping downwards just as the man struggles to free himself, snapping the goon’s neck.

In seconds, the room is clear.

Tommy climbs to his feet, sighing at the mess of bodies around them, some unconscious, some dead. If they want to keep their secret, none of these men can get out alive.

“Well, this was one hell of a welcome home,” Tommy muses, wondering which one of the kidnapers is holding onto their phones.

Oliver huffs. “Now we know for sure that my dad was involved in something shady.”

Whoever Robert Queen’s accomplices are, they had barely waited a day before acting.

Despite the evidence, this isn’t a topic Tommy wants to engage in when they’re stuck in a warehouse surrounded by their kidnappers. But first things first.

“We’re going to have to get their attention off of us,” Tommy says. “How should we explain this to the police?”

Oliver shrugs, “We could just tell them the truth.”

 

-

 

“So that’s your story. A guy in a green hood flew in and single-handedly took out five armed kidnappers.”

The story is totally ridiculous, and Tommy nods, acknowledging the ridiculousness of this story.

“I mean, who is he? Why would he do that?” continues Detective Lance.

“I don’t know,” said Oliver. “Find him and you can ask.”

“Yeah, what about you? You see the hood guy?” said Detective Lance, raising the charcoal picture produced by the sketch artist. The guy has a square jaw and everything. Put Oliver in a hood and that’s him right there.

Tommy stares very intently at the picture, ignoring the mischief in Oliver’s eyes as his friend turns towards him.

“I saw… movement,” says Tommy, looking toward the Detective with an appropriate expression of confusion. He then looks at Oliver uncertainly, as though wanting his friend to confirm what he thinks he saw. “I remember there was someone else there, someone in green, but… I was kind of out of it.”

The ambiguity in his confirmation makes the doubt in Detective Lance’s eyes grow even deeper. “Yeah, it’s funny, isn’t it? One day back, and already somebody’s gunning for you. Aren’t you popular?”

Tommy has the distinct feeling that their five year disappearance hasn’t changed Detective Lance’s opinion of them at all. Perhaps Sara had told more than just Laurel about Oliver’s infidelity.

The confirmation that their kidnappers are professionals with untraceable identities is expected. Whoever Robert Queen had worked with has influence and power, and considering the type of people a man of his status had rubbed shoulders with daily, the existence of a clue would have been more surprising.

The detective leaves, looking both irritated and thoughtful, and Tommy thinks they’ve gotten away with it.

Oliver turns to Tommy with an expression that would have appeared blank to anyone else, but Tommy sees the victory in his eyes.

Their plan worked.

 

-

 

Like Oliver had said, they told Detective Lance the truth – or a version of it, at the very least. The hooded man will soon be making an appearance on the streets of Starling City, and the two people behind him are the same as those who killed the kidnappers today.

Though they get through the questioning without a problem, the unexpected kidnapping and the clean-up afterwards takes up the entire afternoon, forcing them to dial back their plans.

Moira’s worry keeps them from going anywhere for the rest of the evening. She had almost lost her son again not even a day after getting him back and the only way to reassure her is to stay in her company. The pair of them end up spending the evening inside the Queen Mansion, and undiscussed is the apparent fact that Tommy will be spending another night at Oliver’s.

Thea, having appointed herself as the keeper of the last five years’ worth of pop culture, declares that they must be introduced to the latest advancements in video games. She spends ten minutes setting up the consoles, then tosses them each a controller and commands them to enjoy themselves.

Tommy and Oliver spend a long time awestruck by the graphics before Thea crashes a helicopter on top of them.

Then it’s every man and woman for themselves.

They spend hours playing the game, not even bothering to follow the story in favour of blowing each other up as often as possible. At one stage, they even manage to rope Raisa in for a round, until she has to disappear again to do her job.

Soon, the rest of the family migrates into the room, and both Moira and Walter settle into a spare seat, both with some form of work laid out in front of them.

Moira watches with a frown as Thea steals a virtual car and uses it to run over Tommy’s avatar. Oliver, the beautiful best friend he is, avenges Tommy by shooting her down with a shotgun. Thea screams for revenge.

“Are all video games so violent these days?”

Walter looks up from his laptop, catching the end of a street race that ends in a fiery explosion and Oliver dead from mishandling his own rocket launcher. He only raises an eyebrow at the carnage.

“As long as they’re not doing it on the streets.”

 _Hah,_ Tommy thinks, _they know nothing._

Not that either of them are planning on blowing anything up.

 

-

 

It’s 8 p.m. when they’re released by the family, Tommy having emerged victorious by only dying 23 times – less than Oliver’s 31 and Thea’s 46.

They may have ganged up on her a few times.

Left to their own devices again, they retreat upstairs.

On his way up, Tommy finds Raisa in the hallway outside Oliver’s room with a platter of fruit, and he steals it off her with a grin, promising to carry it the rest of the way.

With the food in his hands, he heads to the open door, and finds Oliver sitting at his relic of a computer, cross-referencing something in the notebook.

“We’re going after Hunt?” he says, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Yes we are.”

“Somehow I just knew.” Tommy puts the platter down on the nearest flat surface, which happens to be an ottoman at the foot of Oliver’s bed.

“It’s not because of Laurel.”

“Who said anything about Laurel?”

“You’re thinking it, I can tell. Adam Hunt stole $40 million from pensioners, families, these people deserve to get their money back.”

“And trust me, I’m looking forward to giving it to them. But we’re going to have to at least set up base before we can get out there.”

“That won’t be a problem. Hunt’s business interests are all in town, and the court case has him tied up. I say we have two weeks, at the very least.”

“Plenty of time to get things moving,” Tommy says, biting into a slice of apple.

 

-

 

The morning brings new surprises, in the form of John Diggle.

Oliver’s face at seeing his new bodyguard is absolutely priceless, and Tommy holds back the urge to laugh as he watches the two being introduced.

The man looks reliable enough, and is ex-military, judging by his stance. If Oliver is really the helpless billionaire playboy he appears to be, having Diggle around would be a blessing. But considering the importance of what they’re about to do, having a stranger shadow Oliver’s every move is the last thing they need.

Tommy knows Oliver can get away without a problem. Time will tell how well this new relationship will fare, and how patient and tolerant a person Diggle will turn out to be.

Whatever the case, he’s Oliver’s problem right now.

“I’ll see you later, man.” Tommy slides past his waylaid friend with a sympathetic pat on the arm, going straight for Oliver’s car, intent on rescuing their equipment from discovery. No one tries to stop him, and Tommy thanks God that he’s now old enough to have autonomy from Moira.

He’s not sure if his father also has a bodyguard prepared for him, but judging from the lack of summons, Tommy thinks he’s probably okay.

He got one phone call from Malcolm Merlyn confirming he was safe.

Always so warm and fuzzy, his father.

 

-

 

Tommy gave Oliver twenty minutes to shake his new babysitter and find his way to the Glades, which gives him enough time to detour in a sports goods store to stock up on the gear they need.

It’s strange to think that five years ago he’d walked through Starling City like he owned it, wanting everyone’s attention to be on him and his. Now, he pays in cash to avoid a trail, and makes sure the cameras never catch his face.

True to his prediction, Oliver texts him an address at minute nineteen, and Tommy pulls up outside an electronics store five minutes later to help his friend carry newly purchased laptops and monitors into the car. They hit the building supplies store together, separating once inside to grab everything they need.

Even if it’s owned by the Queens, a condemned factory is not the safest place to be. But the location Oliver has in mind is quiet and secluded, one lost relic among dozens in the Glades where no one will come poking around. They hop the fence with ease and scope out the place for any abandoned supplies they can use.

They get lucky. There are tables, chairs, and a fair amount of furniture, along with sledgehammers, welders and other tools left behind when the factory closed. They take everything that can be used in remodelling, and bring it to their chosen base.

The place is filthy and abandoned, but those are things they’re used to by now.

Then they get to work.

 

-

 

Tommy meets Sara at a bar downtown on a Wednesday night. The place is surprisingly cosy and not one he recognises, though being five years behind the scene, Tommy’s in no position to make decisions when it comes to choosing the best place to meet old friends.

He turns up five minutes past the hour and finds Sara already at a table, dressed in a casual dress and a leather jacket. When she sees him, her face lights up in a smile as she stands up, and Tommy grins back after she pulls him in for a hug.

Sara looks good, and the years have done well for her, worn the softer edges into something sharp. She’s grown up now, just like her sister.

“I know you’ve probably answered this a hundred times already,” Sara says, after they’ve ordered their drinks. “So I won’t ask you about the island.”

Beer and whisky, neither of them are feeling particularly fancy tonight. It takes less than a minute for the waiter to turn up with their drinks.

“It’s okay if you’re curious,” Tommy laughs, reaching for his drink.

“I’ll wait for the book to come out,” Sara replies with a grin. “So how does it feel to be back?”

“Honestly?” Tommy says, ducking his head, “It’s still pretty surreal, I feel like I’m going to wake up any second and find all of this is a dream.”

“Five years is a long time. Maybe one day the island will be what feels like a dream.”

“Well,” Tommy says. “I’ll be looking forward to that day.”

Sara smiles.

“So, have you talked to Oliver yet?” It seems strange to Tommy for Sara to ask to meet him by himself when it’s a pair who returned from a deserted island.

The question puts a pained expression on Sara’s face, and Tommy suddenly realises that it may not have been the best question to ask.

“No, I, uh, thought it’d be better to wait until he contacts me,” says Sara, her face crinkling in embarrassment. “What do I even say? Hey, it’s the sister of your ex-girlfriend who you cheated with before you ‘died’ for five years? I’m not sure if he even wants to see me.”

Of course Oliver hasn’t called Sara. Tommy isn’t surprised his friend hasn’t found the courage to face her yet. Oliver and Tommy had been spending all their time together and Tommy would have known if he had, but he’d still let himself assume. _Think more before you speak, Merlyn._

“Besides,” Sara continues, “I know he talked to Laurel, so it’s pretty clear where his interests lie.”

God, aren’t they all just fish in a barrel? All Oliver has to do is point and shoot.

“You sound like you’re still interested.”

“I know it’s been five years, and things are different now,” Sara says. “But, and I can say this now, I was in love with him too, you know?”

Tommy knows, better than Sara realises. Something about Oliver’s stupid blue eyes, and that ridiculously goofy yet charming smile. The way he looks at you like you might just be the most special person in his whole world. Laurel fell, Sara fell, and Tommy’s still trying not to drown.

“Yeah, he has that effect on people,” he says, hiding his expression with the bottle as he took another drink. “Laurel said you told her about the two of you.”

“It was selfish, but she had a right to know,” Sara says with a sigh, staring into a drink. “She was so heartbroken about Oliver, I wanted… I guess I wanted my pain to be legitimate too, you know? Both you and Oliver were gone, but the way she acted, you’d think she was the only one who cared.”

Tommy watches Sara silently, wondering for the first time since his return what things had really been like for the Lances after Oliver disappeared.

“God, listen to me, I’m being a bitch,” Sara says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I was the one who went behind her back and slept with her boyfriend. It was never right to begin with, I didn’t need five years to figure that out.”

They’re silent for a time.

“I’m sorry for bringing this up,” Tommy says.

“Don’t be,” Sara says coolly. “It’s my mistake to live with.”

He can’t exactly take back the things he brought up before, so the best he can do is to change the topic.

“So… what have you been up to in the last few years?” Tommy tries.

At this, Sara perks up a little more. “Well, I finished college, and I got into veterinary school. I got my license a few months ago, actually. Right now I work in a clinic downtown. We specialise in avian medicine but accept all types of animals. So if you know anyone with a sick pet, you can tell them to come along.”

“Congratulations,” Tommy says with a smile, it’s clear how much Sara already loves her job, “You’ve realised your dream.”

Sara nods, and there’s a familiar glint in her eyes.

Tommy and Sara had never been close before the accident. They had just been Oliver’s best friend and Laurel’s sister, casual acquaintances who had never really shared a conversation. But somehow, five years later, they find a rhythm that almost feels familiar.

Listening to Sara recount her last five years, Tommy is struck yet again by how far the world has moved on without them.

Strangely, Tommy finds he doesn’t miss the loss. Five years has shaped him and Oliver into new people, just as it has Sara and Laurel. Though the thought feels pessimistic, Tommy thinks they are better than what they would otherwise have become.

They’re all trying to save lives, each in their own way.

When he finally says goodbye to Sara, it’s with a promise to see each other again soon.

 

-

 

It takes Tommy and Oliver a week before everything in the basement is properly set up in the way they want. Cables, wiring and generators have to be put in and connected, stores of fuel set up alongside an encrypted satellite connection to the internet. They use Google to fill in their skills whenever they find themselves lacking, and place discreet orders on the black market and the grey market for the tech they need.

Items begin to arrive at parts of Starling City where they are be picked up and paid for in cash. The tricky part is that all of it had to be done without attracting unwanted attention towards the strange boxes going into an abandoned factory. Together, they manage.

As expected, Diggle becomes a constant source of annoyance in Oliver’s life, and Tommy finds himself standing back and watching in amusement as Oliver makes a sport of disappearing on his bodyguard. The ingenuity that had never been tapped into during their school-days reveals itself in full force as Oliver finds increasingly creative ways to escape. To make things even worse, Tommy offers his own ideas and services as a distraction. So far, it’s worked with success.

Thankfully, Diggle is responsible only for the Queen family, and as a Merlyn, Tommy is free from his influence. Even if the man sees straight through his fake emergencies, his position doesn’t allow him to simply shove Tommy aside to pursue Oliver.

So with patience and care, they manage the logistics of it all between the two of them, and set things up without any problem. The main factory floor is huge, and they easily find space for a workshop and a pseudo-gym, as well as a ring for training and a range for their archery.

In the end, Tommy’s quite proud of the base they’ve put together. It’s like their dream clubhouse from back when they were children, just a hundred times more impressive. They even have weapons racks, containing everything from grenades to semi-automatics.

The bow may be their weapon of choice, but they aren’t stupid enough to think that guns are something they can completely avoid.

They’ll each carry at least one sidearm. Tommy insists.

 

-

 

“I’m going to win,” Tommy whispers as he and Oliver stand beside each other, facing the far wall. Their quivers are at their backs, and their bows held at the ready. Oliver has his foot on the launcher.

“Yeah?” Oliver laughs, “We’ll see.”

The base is done, and all that’s left is to test out the setup.

“The usual bet?”

“Done.”

With a clunk, eleven tennis balls are launched from the roof.

Tommy’s attention focuses in an instant, and he pulls an arrow, aims, and fires in rapid succession, taking out one ball after another.

The whooshing of arrows fills the air. He and Oliver are matched almost evenly, and ten are gone by the time they turn their attention to the final point. Oliver lets loose his last arrow a moment before Tommy, but Tommy’s own arrow is just a little faster and better aimed.

It knocks Oliver’s arrow off his course, and Tommy’s follow up shot takes out the last ball. He lets out a whoop when his arrow hits the wall. Oliver was crestfallen, his mouth falling open with a yell.

“Oh come on! You totally cheated.”

“What? No. I won.”

“I had that ball.”

“Ollie,” Tommy deadpans, stating the obvious, “I’m better.”

“No way, rematch.”

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” says Tommy, pulling out another arrow from his quiver and staring at his best friend with a look of incredulity.

“Yes, that’s exactly how it’s going to be,” replies Oliver as he runs off to refill the launcher.

Oliver wins the second match, but he buys them dinner anyway.

 

-

 

“You know, helping Laurel win her case is all well and good, but you’re still going to have to talk to her.”

It’s late afternoon. They’re together in the base, and Tommy is working on making new arrowheads while Oliver trawls the internet for intel on their target. Oliver has spent the entire week hiding not just from Diggle, but also from everyone in their old crowd who‘s been wanting to meet the returning hero.

While the excuse of ‘readjusting’ had gotten them to spend their first week back in relative peace, there had been one awkward gathering in the last few days. It had been an interesting exercise, to see how much or how little Starling City’s wildest party boys and girls had and hadn’t changed in the last half-decade.

Since that gathering, he’s fielded every invitation they’ve received. Admittedly, Tommy is doing the same, but there are a few people he knows Oliver shouldn’t be avoiding.

“She needs space right now, Tommy,” says Oliver “You saw how our last meeting went."

“And Sara? She says you haven’t talked either.”

Oliver spins around in the chair, staring at Tommy in surprise.

“What? I don’t spend _every_ second of my life with you, just most seconds.”

Oliver thinks for a beat, then shrugs and turns back to the computer. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Are you angry at her?” says Tommy, “Because she told Laurel you’d been sleeping together?”

“No, I understand why she had to do it.”

“Then you should talk to her, let her know that.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“Eventually.”

The sound of sharpening metal stops, and Tommy sighs, turning to Oliver.

“You’re hiding from them, Oliver. That’s not exactly healthy.”

“You’ve been living at my house for a week, Tommy.”

That shuts Tommy up. “Touché.”

Oliver smirks.

“Just… think about what I said, okay?”

Oliver lets out a breath. “Yeah, okay.”

 

-

 

By evening, they’ve put together their plan. Adam Hunt conned thousands of people out of their homes and life savings, and they’re going to force him to give that money back.

The man would get one chance, before they do the job for him.

“You sure you want to do this by yourself?”

“Hunt only has two bodyguards, and he’ll be talking to his head of security. It’ll be easy.”

Tommy has no doubts about Oliver’s capabilities, but it doesn’t make it easy to let him go in without backup.

“Alright. I’ll be right outside if you need any help.”

“I got it, don’t worry.”

“Just be careful.”

The decision to start out as a lone vigilante is a strategic decision if anything. After everything they’ve been through, and all of their training, they’re each confident in each other’s abilities to operate solo.

This way, things can remain flexible. It’ll be easier for Oliver to avoid suspicion as the vigilante if Tommy can take the mantle and give Oliver the alibi of being at home with his family, and the same is true in reverse. Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn has returned to Starling City as a duo, and any attention one of them receives will always affect the other. They will forever be the billionaire playboys who went missing for five years, and that’s exactly what they want the public to think.

If worst comes to worst, there’s nothing stopping them from publically upping to a two-man team.

They’d always felt like they could do anything together. It was true before the accident, and it’s even more accurate now.

 

-

 

Oliver’s right; he hasn’t been the only one hiding.

The call comes just as Tommy’s on his way out from the meeting with the catering company. At first he thinks it’s Oliver, but the caller ID soon tells him differently.

Tommy stares at his new phone for a full ten seconds before finally giving in and answering.

“Hello?”

“Tommy, are you avoiding me?”

Just like Dad to cut straight to the chase. He’s been staying at Oliver’s for over a week, and this is the first call he’s gotten on the issue.

“What, no ‘hello son, how are you’?”

“You haven’t come home in over a week, Tommy. You left on your first day back.”

“I’ve been staying at Oliver’s. You know, since there are more of my things there.”

It’s a low blow, but Tommy doesn’t have the patience or the desire to deal with his father right now.

“Tommy,” his father says in the perfectly measured voice he uses on petulant children, his one petulant child, to be exact, “I want you to come home.”

“And if I say I don’t want to?”

Malcolm sighs. “It’s been five years, Tommy, no matter how we left things… I want us to move on from that. But you need to give me a chance.”

For Malcolm Merlyn, Tommy knows that’s as close as he’ll ever get to an apology. But still, it doesn’t keep his anger from boiling over.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and hangs up the call.

 

-

 

Oliver’s successful, just as expected, giving Adam Hunt until 10 p.m. on Saturday to wire the $40 million in stolen funds. To give them both an alibi and a strategic advantage when it comes to the attack, they decide to hold their welcome home bash across the road from his building.

Never let it be forgotten that Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen know how to have _fun_.

Even by old Tommy’s standards, their party is a good one.

The entire room is pulsing with music, the heavy bass vibrating the glasses in their hands as the people move to the rhythm. They have the best DJ in Starling City inside her booth. The alcohol flows freely, and the room is filled to the brim with beautiful people.

It’s perfect, it’s incredible, and it’s giving Tommy a headache. Every person is a variable, a potential threat. He can barely hear his own thoughts above the music. It’s impossible to keep track of everyone and everything, and he feels surrounded on all sides by unknown dangers. Once upon a time he’d thrived in this world, but now he feels like an unwelcome crasher at the party he threw for himself.

Unsurprisingly, Oliver brings his bodyguard along for the night. The sight of Diggle has Tommy smiling politely on the outside and wincing on the inside. At this rate, the bodyguard is going to pose a serious problem to them both.

He pulls Oliver aside the first chance he gets, and finds them a corner where they can still hear each other and not be overheard.

“Look, you’re going to have trouble shaking Diggle tonight. Just stay here, enjoy the party. You went out the first time, this second one is mine. I’ve got Hunt.”

Oliver stares at him, doubtful. “Are you sure? His security’s going to be much tighter this time. We should go in together.”

“I’m sure. I know the blueprints, and I know the plan. Private security won’t be anything I can’t handle. Anyway, we can’t both disappear from this party. Someone’ll notice, and if they do, it’s going to be trouble for both of us.”

The way Oliver presses his lips together tells Tommy he’s not entirely convinced. “You should have back-up, Tommy.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy says, settling things before Oliver can argue any further. “Also, I invited Laurel, and you’re going to talk to her once she turns up.”

At least, he’d called and asked her to come. His persuasive tactics had ranged from bribing her with Pinot Noir to promising  her that she wouldn't need to talk to anyone she doesn’t want to. In the end it had worked, at least Tommy thinks it worked.

“What?”

‘Deer in the headlights’ is a look that suits Oliver, and the topic has his friend immediately side-tracked. Invoking Laurel Lance always works in a jam. Tommy thinks Oliver doesn’t even know how easily distracted he is whenever she’s mentioned.

After how things went at CNRI last time Tommy isn’t entirely sure she’s going to show. Something like that may rest entirely on just how much of a grudge she still holds against Oliver. If she does, it would mean that maybe Laurel also wants to fix this.

Unwelcome jealousy springs up inside, and Tommy forces the feeling back down.

“Look, she may be mad at you, but she’s still my friend, and I would like my _best_ friend to be friends with my friend.” He gives Oliver a look that clearly says _if not more_. “Talk to her. Figure things out. I know how much she means to you, and you can’t just let your second chance slip away.”

This time, Tommy’s words seem to hit home, and Oliver stares into the crowd like he’s about to face a firing squad.

It strikes Tommy that it’s really messed up that he knows what Oliver looks like when he’s about to face a firing squad.

He just hopes things will go just as well this time around.

 

-

 

Half an hour into the night, Thea makes a brief appearance. There’s a there’s an intense conversation between brother and sister that quickly reveals the presence of a drug dealer in the room willing to sell to underage girls. Instead of interfering with the Queen siblings, Tommy finds the dealer in the throng of people, and kicks him out of the party.

It also reminds him that five years ago he would be doing something completely different with a man like that, something that would involve money changing hands.

The encounter with his sister leaves Oliver even tenser than before, and Tommy wonders if the night will make things between Oliver and Laurel better or worse.

He spots Laurel and Sara before they see him, and stealthily approaches the two, hoping to intercept before there can be an awkward encounter among the members of a love triangle. He quietly flags down Sara without Laurel noticing, and pulls her aside for a conversation.

A confused Oliver walks right into Laurel, and Tommy thinks ‘ _Mission Accomplished’_. The two talk briefly before leaving for somewhere more private, and Tommy is left with Sara, who watches him amusedly like she knows exactly what’s going on.

“Hey Tommy,” Sara says with a warm smile. “This is a great party.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Tommy says with as much sincerity as he can muster and a grin of his own. “I’m glad you made it.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Oliver’s around, you won’t have much trouble cornering him if you need to.”

“As tempting as that is,” Sara says, looking in the direction Oliver and Laurel has just left in, “I think I’ll wait until he’s ready to talk to me.”

“You sure? Knowing Oliver that… might take a while.”

“Yeah, he and Laurel have a lot to figure out, and I’d rather not get in the way.”

Sara, Laurel and Oliver’s relationship is a mess. Perhaps someday they’ll be able to go back to the way things were, but things won’t be resolved in an evening. Sara is here now, looking radiant in her yellow dress, and Tommy thinks the best he can do is to help take her mind off the mess and make sure she has a good time.

“Well, since you’re here now, let me buy you a drink, and-“

He turns towards the bar, intent on pulling Sara along with him, when he sees his father.

Tommy freezes instantly, his heart plummeting to his stomach. Malcolm Merlyn is standing solemnly at the bar, a glass of whisky in his hands as he stares dispassionately into the crowd. He’s still dressed in his business suit, and there’s only one possible reason he’s here.

“Can you…” Tommy says, looking from Malcolm to Sara in shock. “Uh… excuse me for a moment?”

Sara’s eyes widen when she sees Malcolm. Tommy and his father’s troubled relationship had been no secret amongst the group back in the day. She looks back at him and nods.

“Yeah, go,” she says, squeezing his arm in support.

Relieved that Sara understands, Tommy immediately moves away, pushing his way through the crowd towards his father.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

Malcolm’s expression doesn’t change when he sees Tommy. “What, I’m not welcome at my own son’s welcome home party?”

Tommy wants to say no, but their relationship is already bad enough without him adding any more fuel to the fire. “This… isn’t really your scene, Dad.”

“You’ve been avoiding me for the whole week, Tommy. How else was I supposed to see you?”

Guilt, okay, that’s a familiar feeling. It’s at that moment his phone buzzes in his pocket, signalling 10pm.

 _Shit._ Adam Hunt.

“Look, Dad, stay if you want. We can talk later, but I’ve got to go.”

“No,” says Malcolm, stepping in front of Tommy before he can get away. “We need to talk, and we’re going to do it now.”

Oliver’s voice crackles over the earpiece. “Tommy? You on your way?”

That must mean the funds never arrived in the account, which Tommy has no way of confirming for himself since his father is looming over him at this very second. He considers his options. Taking down his father is the most tempting option but also the most impractical. Malcolm Merlyn is not going to let him leave without a conversation, not when he’s been forced to practically turn up at Tommy’s doorstep in order to see him.

“Dad, if you want to talk, we can do it elsewhere, alright?” he says, his voice unnecessarily loud so Oliver can catch it over the air.

“Shit,” Oliver growls. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, wait, Ol-“

He cuts himself off when he sees his father looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and inwardly curses at the bad timing. There’s no way Tommy can catch Oliver in time, not with Malcolm here.

“Follow me,” he says, his voice curt. This doesn’t have to be all bad, he thinks to himself. Since this conversation isn’t something he’s going to get out of, they may as well sort things out right here and now.

Tommy turns and walks towards the exit, not bothering to check if his father follows.

 

-

 

They find a quiet space on the upper floor landing, away from the noise and the people. Tommy’s hands grip the railings, and he stares out at the foyer below. The colourful neon glow of the outside lights faintly illuminates the dark.

He can feel the weight of Malcolm’s gaze upon him, and a single glance shows Tommy that his expression is familiarly unreadable. He braces himself for the first hit.

“You should stay away from Oliver.”

The ridiculousness of the comment has Tommy whirling around to face him in disbelief. “What?”

“I know you and Oliver went through a lot together, but you have to learn to let go.”

This isn’t what Tommy expected. Another plea to come home perhaps, or to tell him how irresponsible he’s being, and to stop acting like a child. But Oliver?

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tommy says. “Oliver’s my best friend, has _been_ my best friend for my whole life.”

If this conversation was ever going to happen it should have happened ten or fifteen years ago, the time Tommy broke his arm after following through with that particularly stupid drunken dare, or when he’d gotten arrested for the first time.

Not now.

“He’s a terrible influence on you,” his father says, voice raising higher. “I’ve seen it from the start. The women, the drugs, the criminal charges I swept under the rug? I accepted those things because I thought you’d grow out of it. But he almost got you _killed,_ Tommy. It’s a miracle you even made it back to me!”

None of his father’s words make sense.

“He kept me _alive_ , Dad,” said Tommy, his voice hard with anger. “Oliver is the _only_ reason I’m even standing here talking to you. Without him I could never have gotten off that island.”

“He was the one who put you there in the first place!”

The words dry up in Tommy’s mouth. He stares at his father, sees the barely controlled fury seething beneath the surface, and everything suddenly becomes clear.

“You think it’s his fault.”

Malcolm’s glare doesn’t falter. He says nothing.

Tommy wants to laugh. How could he ever have thought his father would blame himself for anything that happens in Tommy’s life? He’d thought there might be guilt, that his father would regret the argument that drove him away that day, want to take back the words he’d said. He’d thought perhaps that when he returns his father would be changed, would be... different, better somehow.

“You think it’s his fault I was on that boat.”

Those words finally set something loose in his father’s eyes, and Malcolm steps even closer to his son. His hands rise slowly, but they hover above Tommy’s shoulders. For some reason, his father is afraid to touch his own son.

“You were _never_ supposed to have been there that day,” says Malcolm, catching Tommy’s gaze and refusing to let him look away. “He was the one who put you there, and you almost _died_ because of it.”

God, have they ever had a normal conversation without it turning into something unbearable? Tommy can’t even remember.

“That’s not what happened,” Tommy says, suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t want to explain this, he doesn’t want to think about this, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with this again.

“You want to know why I was on that boat?” he says instead.

Malcolm blinks.

He can’t even bear to look at his father. “Remember that argument we had? The day before? When you called me all those things?”

 _You’re nothing but a waste of space right now_.

_You are nothing._

It was nothing he hadn’t heard before, and he should have forgotten it by now. But the way he’d felt -fear, disappointment, terror, denial, anger – a roiling mix of things barely identifiable at the time, which in the end boiled down only to hurt, he remembers all of it still.

“I get it, you were disappointed,” Tommy says. “You were trying to kick me into shape.”

Every one of his father’s excuses to put Tommy in his place as someone, _something_ , inferior, broken, wrong. He’s had five years to work through his own feelings, and he knows now that he is sick of this, that he is better than everything his father had made him out to be.

“You never cared how your words made me feel,” he says, “and I know you never will.”

_Is that really all it takes, Tommy?_

_I raised you better than this._

“But Oliver was there, when no one else was,” he says quietly. “And he actually gave a shit about me, actually cared, and wanted me to feel good about myself. _Sara_ was the one he invited that day, did you know that?”

He finally looks into his father’s eyes, and tries to find something there he can recognise. But all he can feel is the distance, the anger, the frustration at everything that he and his father has come to be.

“But when he saw the state I was in? He told her to stay home.”

Tommy can almost see the exact moment his father completely shuts down.

“So you’re saying it’s my fault, is that it? That I’m the reason you were on that boat that day.”

No, but it’s not Oliver’s. Tommy made his own decision that day, leaving Starling City just so he could spend a few weeks with Oliver. Even if there had never been an argument, he would have dropped everything the moment Oliver asked, if he asked.

He was, _is_ , stupidly in love like that. And he’d been stupidly jealous of Sara, of Laurel, of any girl who ever came close enough to Oliver to the point Tommy had to find distractions of his own. But that’s not something he ever wants his father to know, not something he could ever explain to the man in front of him.

“For five years, we only had each other,” Tommy says in the end, “That’s not something I can _ever_ leave behind.”

Malcolm is silent for a long moment, and Tommy almost lets himself hope.

“Tommy,” Malcolm Merlyn says, his voice so carefully controlled it only sends another jolt of fear through Tommy, “I’m sorry about what happened.”

Malcolm stares at Tommy with what can only be clarity in his eyes.

“But you know I just wanted you to see that the life you were living was not going to lead you anywhere.”

Tommy wants to punch something.

“And all of that… it’s over now, son,” Malcolm Merlyn looks ever the wise man, the one who wants nothing but the best for his child. “You’re back in the real world now, and whether you like it or not, something will pull the two of you apart. It could be Laurel, Sara - anyone. All it will take is time.”

Always, every time, this father acts like those are things he doesn’t already know.

“I don’t care,” says Tommy.

He backs away, knowing nothing will come out of tonight for either of them.

“Stay the hell away from me, Dad.”

 

-

 

He wants nothing more than to find a dark corner and hide, but instead he wanders back to the party, into the crowd of faceless men and women losing themselves in the music and the whisky. Just like five years ago, the noise drowns out the thoughts screaming in his head, and the bar looks more tempting than the alternative of dwelling on every negative emotion his father had brought to the forefront of his mind.

He tried this once, he tried this for years. None of it had worked longer than a single night.

But at least it worked.

He orders a double shot of whisky and downs it in one, savouring the burn of alcohol as it hits the back of his throat. The sound of wailing sirens can be heard in the air, and Tommy stares blankly out onto the street, wondering what’s going on.

Then the police are swarming into their building.

 _Oliver must have gotten out,_ he thinks absently, rolling the empty shot glass between his fingers, and with a shock he realises he’s completely forgotten about their mission, about Adam Hunt and the $40 million.

The next thing he knows, the crowd is parting for Laurel’s father, who stands head and shoulders above the rest like he’s better than everyone here tonight, shouting that the party’s over. The crowd’s reaction, perfectly echoing Tommy’s own mood, is raucous jeering, all directed at the detective.

Tommy doesn’t go looking for the attention, opting to stay exactly where he is next to some very attractive humans he is considering starting a conversation with. But Quentin Lance seems to zero in straight on him, walking up with a smirk on his face that reminds Tommy too much of Malcolm Merlyn.

“Oh, Mister Merlyn, barely a week in civilisation and I see you’re already back to your old ways. Did you roofie anyone special tonight? Huh?”

Yet another person who thinks he’s worthless. Does Lance really believe Tommy was ever capable of something like that? He stares back blankly, far beyond the point of being able to meet Lance’s venom with any semblance of good humour.

Tommy knows Detective Lance has never liked either him or Oliver, had seen through their shallow playboy exteriors with ease back when that was who they were. Lance had been rightfully convinced that Oliver was no good for his daughter, and the fact that the two of them were dating had driven the old man up the wall. He probably hates all the pain Oliver has caused both Laurel and Sara. Tommy’s own sketchy history, alongside the fact that he has long been Oliver’s partner-in-crime, would only worsen his own image in the man’s eyes.

All things considered, Quentin Lance has a justifiable reason for his resentment towards the two of them. But tonight Tommy is inches away from punching the Detective in his smug little face.

It’s only Oliver’s appearance saves him from acting on that urge.

“Detective! It’s a private party.”

Beside them, Oliver materialises like a dream, clad in his Armani suit. The Vigilante’s gear is doubtlessly already stashed in some corner of the building.

Tommy turns to Oliver with a controlled smile, trying his best to dial down the murder on his mind while looking as pleased as he can to see his friend again. He assesses Oliver quickly and finds him uninjured. The realisation has Tommy’s mood finally starting to improve. Something about Oliver’s simple presence has his tension slowly draining away.

“Yeah?” Detective Lance replies, petulant as always. “Well there was an incident in Adam Hunt’s building tonight, you know anything about that?”

Tommy focuses all of his attention on Oliver, purposefully ignoring the Detective who stands a very reachable distance away. His best friend’s expression had turned into one of perfect confusion.

“Who’s Adam Hunt?”

 

-

 

With Oliver back, it’s easy to get Detective Lance out of the picture. Even two million dollars wouldn’t help the police find the man in the green hood tonight, and the expressions on the detectives’ faces as they stare into the crowd tell Tommy they realise the same.

When the police finally leave, it takes barely a minute for Oliver to restart the party, but Tommy’s no longer in the mood for light-hearted fun.

“So how’d it go?” he says once the music starts up again, and people throw themselves back into the rhythm like nothing had happened. His words are clipped, even though he doesn’t mean it to be. “Are the people getting their money back?”

“Yeah,” says Oliver, watching him with a look of growing concern. “It went fine, the money will be in the account by midnight.”

“That’s good.”

His response carries none of his usual cheer, and Oliver picks up on it instantly.

“What happened? Was it your father?”

Tommy lets out a slow breath. “Yeah, we talked. He’s still a dick.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver says, and there’s sadness in his eyes that Tommy doesn’t like. “You know you’re always welcome at my place.”

It’s probably just the alcohol, it has to be, because in that moment, Oliver’s offer sounds like so much more. It’s a line they’ve each used on eager, giggling girls countless times, and in that moment, Tommy lets himself indulge in the possibility, the chance that Oliver really means it in that way.

That Oliver wants to take him home, to kiss him, and touch him in the same way Tommy wants him to.

Oliver has no fucking idea what he does to him.

“Nah, I think I’ll find someone and let off some steam,” Tommy says instead. “You know, there’s _another_ thing I missed while I was on that island.”

That earns him a surprised laugh, and the response seems to convince Oliver that he’s okay. “I totally understand.”

“Some coincidence, isn’t it?” Tommy quips, “Us having our party here and Hunt getting robbed right next door, and by the same guy who rescued us at the warehouse.”

“I know right? It’s nuts,” Oliver says with a grin. Then he wanders off into the crowd, and Tommy loses any reason to keep up a smile.

 

-

 

He spends the night with a guy with deep blue eyes and a square jaw. Under the dim lighting and the haze of the alcohol he looks enough like someone Tommy wants, and Tommy doesn’t let him think too hard about who or why.

He leaves the stranger’s apartment in the morning with no intention of ever coming back.

He tries to put his father’s words out of his mind, wants to push them aside like he always has since he was a teenager. It had been him and Oliver, he thinks, it had always been, and there is no reason for that to ever change. Not really.

Tommy spends the morning in the first open gym he finds, excercising until he can barely see straight. Then he showers, changes, and eats lunch at a nearby diner, ignoring the calls and messages that pop up on his phone.

In the afternoon, he finds a realtor and goes apartment hunting by himself.

Despite everything, his father has a point. He can’t just hold onto Oliver like nothing has changed.

They’re back in Starling City, and it isn’t just Tommy and Oliver against the world anymore. That life had disappeared the moment that fishing boat appeared on the horizon. Now, there’s Laurel, Sara, Thea, Moira, hell, there is Diggle. A hundred different things called reality are now coming between them, and there is no point in resisting the inevitable.

No matter how hard he wants it, no matter how hard he tries to hold on, Oliver was never his to begin with.

And he has to move on.

 

-

 

It’s a wild stab in the dark, but he successfully finds Laurel at the CNRI office.

Tommy doesn’t think himself vain, but being introduced as ‘that cute friend’ by Laurel’s best friend Joana gives him a tiny ego boost. The smile he greets her with is that much happier, even if the look on Laurel’s face when she turns clearly says that she was thinking about the other cute friend of hers.

This time, Laurel waits until they’re out on the street before she starts to speak.

“Are you here about Oliver again?”

“Uh…” Is he that transparent? “I was wondering how things went between you two last night. You left the party pretty quick, even after I made sure the bar was stocked with Pinot Noir. You still like it, right?”

Laurel smiles a little at that, and Tommy feels a wave of relief that she’s not angry at him. “Yes, I do, but… it wasn’t really my scene.”

Tommy knows. Though Laurel had been present at just as many parties as the rest of them back in the day, it had always been painfully clear that more often than not, she was only there to be with Oliver.

They walk side by side down the alleyway, and Laurel stares at her feet thoughtfully.

“And my idiot best friend?” says Tommy.

“He told me that I should stay away from him, because he hasn’t really changed,” Laurel replies, stopping and turning to face Tommy.

He stops beside her, staring at Laurel in disbelief before sighing. “That idiot.”

Tommy had been joking before, but now it’s every bit sincere. Laurel looks torn between anger and heartbreak, and Tommy knows the misery she is experiencing is something only Oliver can fix.

Still, it doesn’t mean he’s not going to try and do at least _something._

“Look, I know you think we should give things another chance,” Laurel continues, “But Oliver’s made it clear he’s still the exact same asshole who left five years ago-”

“That’s not true,” says Tommy, cutting in before Laurel can convince herself with any more of Oliver’s lies. “We were trapped in that place for five years, Laurel, no one comes out of that the same. He’s different now, a better person, but he’s scared, just like he was five years ago.”

Laurel opens her mouth to argue, but something in his words must make sense, because she stops herself and sighs.

Tommy notes, with a small feeling of victory, the slight upturn to her lips.

“You know, as much as I want to take your word for it, if Oliver wants to fix things between us, he’s going to needs to come work these things out for himself.”

“I know,” says Tommy, “But… he’s not a bad guy, no matter what he claims. He’s different, even if he’s too afraid to show you. I don’t want you to hate him, even though he’s an idiot, who’s done some _very_ stupid things.”

Laurel is silent for a moment, “You’re a good friend, Tommy. Oliver’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m your friend too, Laurel.”

That earns him a smile, and she nods. “I have to get back to work.”

“I won’t keep you here,” Tommy says, “Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Tommy.”

Laurel pulls him in for a hug, and Tommy’s lips quirk in a smile of its own accord. “Me too, Laurel.”

 

-

 

Oliver walks into the base half an hour after Tommy arrives, clad in his hood and his leathers.

Tommy pauses in his training the moment he sees him, swinging down from the bars and landing silently on the concrete floor. “How was patrol?”

Oliver doesn’t reply, instead unclipping his quiver and focusing on putting everything back where it belongs. His shoulders are tense, and the silence indicates nothing good. Tommy slows as he draws closer.

“What’s wrong?”

Oliver stops, and sighs. “You didn’t have to go talk to Laurel.”

Tommy doesn’t hide his surprise. “You’re stalking her?”

He knows that Oliver probably wants to see her again, but this sort of thing is-

“I was following _you_ ,” Oliver says with a pointed glare, and Tommy instantly feels incredibly stupid for not realising.

But he still doesn’t quite understand.

“Why?”

“Really? We’re together virtually 24/7 for almost two weeks and suddenly you disappear for a whole day? I think I’m allowed to worry.”

Right. Of course. Tommy was stupid to think Oliver wouldn’t notice his absence, or suspect something was going on after all those missed calls. He’s getting too good at pretending his own problems don’t exist.

He tries to think of a way to explain himself, but the only thing that comes to mind is the truth.

“I… talked to my father, last night.”

Oliver waits for him to finish, and his unchanging expression has Tommy thinking he already knows that is the reason.

“We talked, and he said a few things which… I think had a point.”

The look on Oliver’s face melts into something thoughtful, and his pose straightens as he turns around to face Tommy. “That’s rare.”

Tommy laughs, and he thinks this is a chance to take the conversation elsewhere. His instincts cry out for him to take the offer, to make this just about his father. But at the same time, he knows this isn’t something he can avoid forever.

He takes a deep breath.

“We’re not on the island anymore, Ollie, and... we can’t be stuck like we were.”

His words are clearly not what Oliver expects. He blinks, and stares at the ground as Tommy watches him helplessly.

“Right,” Oliver says a moment later. It’s as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him until this moment, and Tommy hates that he’s the one bringing this up.

“So I’m looking for an apartment. Downtown, but still close enough to the Glades.”

“Not going to live with your father?” Oliver asks wryly.

Tommy barks out a laugh that is bitterer than he plans for it to be. “God no. I can’t stand him or that house, Ollie.”

Oliver nods, seemingly thinking things through. Then, he takes a deep breath. “Well. It’ll take some getting used to, for me as well. But your dad’s right.”

Oliver looks Tommy in the eye as he speaks, and Tommy isn’t sure if he’s more disappointed or relieved that Oliver isn’t arguing the point.

Some part of him just wants Oliver to step close, to tell him that things are never going to change, that they can stay together, just the two of them against the world, to hell with all the rest.

But Tommy’s words make sense, and Oliver knows it.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “Try to sleep on the bed, okay?”

Oliver laughs, “I’ll try.”

“But I’m still sticking around, you know that,” Tommy says. It’s unnecessary, he knows he’s staying, Oliver knows he’s staying. It feels more like he is saying it for his own benefit than for Oliver’s, but he can’t help the words coming out of his mouth.  “We’re in this together.”

His words sound like a reassurance, but he holds his breath as he waits for Oliver’s reply.

“Of course. Together ‘til the end.”

Things are going to be okay.

 

-

 

_“Oliver?”_

_The lifeboat drifts above the sea, rocking up and down with every wave. At their feet is the body of Robert Queen, his blood still staining the side of their life raft._

_“Oliver, hey.”_

_Tommy shifts, trying not to wince as his muscles spasm in protest. He risks upsetting the balance of their tiny vessel, and crawls to be closer to Oliver._

_Oliver doesn’t even react as Tommy settles in next to him. In the days since Robert’s death, Oliver’s been skittish, withdrawn. He’s been silent for far too long, and Tommy can feel himself slowly drowning in worry._

_He presses in close, their shoulders and thighs touching, and Tommy hopes that the contact will help ground Oliver in what remains of their reality._

_“Ollie, I’m scared too, okay?” Tommy says quietly, staring at his friend and desperately trying to catch his eye. “I’m terrified, and I don’t know why your father chose...”_

_His cuts himself off, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Robert’s corpse lies at their feet as a constant reminder, and his reasons are not something that will not make sense to either them soon, maybe never._

_“But you know what?” Tommy says, taking a shaking breath, “I know we can get through this.”_

_He’s grabbed Oliver’s hand, and he doesn’t remember when he did. But Tommy pulls it close, thinks he’s pulling Oliver close, and he holds on as tightly as he can._

_“We can get through this, Ollie. And no matter what happens, I’ll stay with you, understand? You aren’t going to lose me. We’ll be together, and we’ll get through this.”_

_For a few long minutes, Tommy can only stare as Oliver stares blankly at his feet, pushing down his growing despair as he waits for a reaction._

_Then Oliver nods once, and suddenly Tommy can breathe again._

_“Together.”_

_“Til the end,” Tommy says, and it’s a promise._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in October 2014 during the height of my Arrow obsession. The original plan was to rewrite as much of the first season as I could, but for now it looks like the first episode will be as far as I progress with this AU. Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think below. You can also find me on tumblr at ingu.


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